HCGLNS 4th Ed Game: Rise of the Drow
- Thread starter HCGLNS
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To understand me, you must first understand what it means to live in Persolacquo.
The City of Lost Water exists in different states, dependent on Aime's bilunar cycles. For most of the time, everything is normal; the city sits at the desert's edge, firmly in the Prime Material. But two weeks out of every eight, when Aime's twin moons are at their apex, there is a planar shift. Buildings and their contents appear from the plane of Rikkirikki, Lady Ambrosia's plane, known to some outsiders as the "feywild". This is a time of great happiest and rejoicing for my people. Some say there is no lovelier place on Aime than Persolacquo in Ambrosia phase in the daylight, especially when the sprites dance and the flowers bloom. The most fortunate among us can count our birth days among these hallowed times. Like my parents, they become respected and loved the entire city over. It was largely because of tis blessed birth that they were able to attain High Clerichood at the local Temple of Ambrosia.
However, this phasing doesn't come without it's dark side - the opposite two weeks of the cycle. When the moons are gone and the night is darkest, buildings and denizens from Lilith's plane of Ssssssth appear in Persolacquo. The living citizens of the city tread this fortnight carefully, living in fear, especially at night, when the vampires have been known to come. These are the darkest of times.
Living with such dramatic highs and lows in this city of art and magic comes with its superstitions of course. Since the phasing is tied to the moons, the daylight, and the people born during it, are revered as a source of stability, honesty, and pride within the community. They are the blessed Sunkissed. The Moonchildren on the other hand, come to represent the extreme highs and lows of the city - flirtatious and secretive, flighty and often dangerous. People look upon these people with pity and even sometimes prejudice, as though they are better than them just because of the time they were born!
Well, imagine my parents' stunned silence when I, their youngest daughter, was born a moonchild in the phase of Lilith.
(to be continued)
The City of Lost Water exists in different states, dependent on Aime's bilunar cycles. For most of the time, everything is normal; the city sits at the desert's edge, firmly in the Prime Material. But two weeks out of every eight, when Aime's twin moons are at their apex, there is a planar shift. Buildings and their contents appear from the plane of Rikkirikki, Lady Ambrosia's plane, known to some outsiders as the "feywild". This is a time of great happiest and rejoicing for my people. Some say there is no lovelier place on Aime than Persolacquo in Ambrosia phase in the daylight, especially when the sprites dance and the flowers bloom. The most fortunate among us can count our birth days among these hallowed times. Like my parents, they become respected and loved the entire city over. It was largely because of tis blessed birth that they were able to attain High Clerichood at the local Temple of Ambrosia.
However, this phasing doesn't come without it's dark side - the opposite two weeks of the cycle. When the moons are gone and the night is darkest, buildings and denizens from Lilith's plane of Ssssssth appear in Persolacquo. The living citizens of the city tread this fortnight carefully, living in fear, especially at night, when the vampires have been known to come. These are the darkest of times.
Living with such dramatic highs and lows in this city of art and magic comes with its superstitions of course. Since the phasing is tied to the moons, the daylight, and the people born during it, are revered as a source of stability, honesty, and pride within the community. They are the blessed Sunkissed. The Moonchildren on the other hand, come to represent the extreme highs and lows of the city - flirtatious and secretive, flighty and often dangerous. People look upon these people with pity and even sometimes prejudice, as though they are better than them just because of the time they were born!
Well, imagine my parents' stunned silence when I, their youngest daughter, was born a moonchild in the phase of Lilith.
(to be continued)
Not so far you don't.
R
rathkor
i actually saw a list of the dumbest monsters designed by WOTC and a laundry monster was on that list. let me look for it and i'll post a link. lol
Added at: 15:19
http://www.headinjurytheater.com/article73.htm
just look for the Raggamoffyns. its kinda near the bottom
They kept my birth a secret until the next Ambrosia phase. I don't know if it was selfish, necessarily, like they wanted to save the Xilsciente family the societal shame of having birthed a moonchild. I think they just wanted to protect me and make sure I grew up right. Mom kept a closer eye on my activities and outings a lot more than she did for my brother and sister, and for the longest time I thought it was just because I was the baby of the family. My dad was more forceful in his protectiveness. He went out of his way to make sure I studied heavily in the clerical tradition, never left the temple after dark, and so on.
As I grew into adolescence, I was only an occasional annoyance to my family. My father would find me wrapped up in story books or arcane tomes, rather than the religious texts he had set out for me. My mother would scold me after I sneaked back into the house, out at night when I shouldn't have been, playing lyre at the tavern. It became clear to the whole family that my heart wasn't into sticking around the city my whole life, living a strict religious life. I yearned to break free, to see the world I had read about so much, to create stories of my own.
My father, determined to quash this rebellious streak, grew even more determined than ever to keep me in Persolacquo, to make me the proud daughter he'd always wanted.
(to be continued)
As I grew into adolescence, I was only an occasional annoyance to my family. My father would find me wrapped up in story books or arcane tomes, rather than the religious texts he had set out for me. My mother would scold me after I sneaked back into the house, out at night when I shouldn't have been, playing lyre at the tavern. It became clear to the whole family that my heart wasn't into sticking around the city my whole life, living a strict religious life. I yearned to break free, to see the world I had read about so much, to create stories of my own.
My father, determined to quash this rebellious streak, grew even more determined than ever to keep me in Persolacquo, to make me the proud daughter he'd always wanted.
(to be continued)
They arranged a marriage for me. To my best friend, the Sunkissed son of one of the city's councilors. The night they told me was one of the most intense of my life, so much arguing and crying. After mother had gone to bed in tears, and father had gone angry, I decided that enough was enough.
I took my mother's eladric cloak and teleported from the temple, heading northeast across the desert towards the port town of Cotone. I left during the Lilith phase, so that even if the family wanted to pursue me, they'd be too superstitious to be out in the wilds overnight. They'd have to wait at least a week to avoid the vampires. Silly superstitions, there were no "vampires". Or at least I didn't see any.
With nothing on me but a few of my favourite volumes from the temple, my cloak and my lyre, I had to play music and dance in Cotone in order to finance my passage overseas. But I finally scrounged up enough gold to finance the beginning of my journey to see Aime at large. This is my chance to see the world, learn new stories, meet new people!
I am Solaria of the Golden Petals, and this is just the beginning of my stories.
I took my mother's eladric cloak and teleported from the temple, heading northeast across the desert towards the port town of Cotone. I left during the Lilith phase, so that even if the family wanted to pursue me, they'd be too superstitious to be out in the wilds overnight. They'd have to wait at least a week to avoid the vampires. Silly superstitions, there were no "vampires". Or at least I didn't see any.
With nothing on me but a few of my favourite volumes from the temple, my cloak and my lyre, I had to play music and dance in Cotone in order to finance my passage overseas. But I finally scrounged up enough gold to finance the beginning of my journey to see Aime at large. This is my chance to see the world, learn new stories, meet new people!
I am Solaria of the Golden Petals, and this is just the beginning of my stories.
Motivation
- Solaria wants to see the world, learning as much as possible about various types of people, places, religions, cultures, animals, magic, everything.
- Solaria will help out any people she can, especially those she feels are being oppressed or prejudiced against.
- Solaria wants to prove to her parents and people in Persolacquo that she can be a decent person without constant supervision.
Personality
- A kind and nurturing person with a lot of love, having grown up in an Ambrosian temple.
- Prone to some flights of fancy.
- Fairly naive, having grown up in a fairly sheltered environment.
- Extremely bookish, and excited about knowing things.
- Excitable in general, really.
- Quick to trust people, has very few secrets.
Likes
- music, especially string instruments
- dancing
- flowers
- art
- fancy or ethnic clothing
- books and stories
- fruit and sweet foods and beverages
Dislikes
- bitter foods and beverages, beer
- being underground
- staying in one place for too long
- cold weather
- Solaria wants to see the world, learning as much as possible about various types of people, places, religions, cultures, animals, magic, everything.
- Solaria will help out any people she can, especially those she feels are being oppressed or prejudiced against.
- Solaria wants to prove to her parents and people in Persolacquo that she can be a decent person without constant supervision.
Personality
- A kind and nurturing person with a lot of love, having grown up in an Ambrosian temple.
- Prone to some flights of fancy.
- Fairly naive, having grown up in a fairly sheltered environment.
- Extremely bookish, and excited about knowing things.
- Excitable in general, really.
- Quick to trust people, has very few secrets.
Likes
- music, especially string instruments
- dancing
- flowers
- art
- fancy or ethnic clothing
- books and stories
- fruit and sweet foods and beverages
Dislikes
- bitter foods and beverages, beer
- being underground
- staying in one place for too long
- cold weather
"she can be a decent person without constant supervision"
Fixed for you, I think.
Fixed for you, I think.
Definitely not a problem.
Haha, thanks, that's a big fix.
Looking forward to hearing other people's stories. I'm usually not the first.
Working on my own right now.
R
rathkor
Locian (pronounced low-she-an) was born into a very normal Eladrin life. His family lived on the very edges of the Feywild. His parents were strict and stern by Eladrin standards. Whenever possible, they would avoid doing dealings with other races, especially Humans and Dwarves. Locian did not agree with his parents on this. He was fascinated by other races and their cultures. He would sneak away from his home and visit the tavern of a nearby human settlement whenever possible. The settlement was small and only served as a safehaven for passing adventurers. He spent many an evening in the tavern, mesmirized by the tales of far away worlds and mystical creatures. One day, a party consisting of an Eladrin fighter, a Dwarf, two humans, and a Dragonborn entered into the tavern. after the Dwarf was nice and drunk, he told a tale of a large red jewel, carved into the shape of a dragon heart. it was apparently stolen by a small band of master thieves, and they had been hired to track down and retrieve the jewel, and return it to the kingdom that hired them. Locian overheard the Dragonborn and the Eladrin discussing the need to hire on more recruits. Locian saw this as an oppertunity to finally live out the stories he'd been hearing for years. He excitedly rused over to the two and volunteered to join them. The two invited Locian up to a room they rented for the night to interview him privately.
Locian told them of his fighting experience, though he left out that it was all sparring and lessons he took since childhood, and that he had never been in a real fight in his entire life. they appeared to believe him, as they agreed to bring him along. The next morning, Locian, the party, and three humans the others managed to recruit, headed out. The new recruits were outfitted with crude swords and worn leather armor.
The thieves were tracked down to a small cave. the party managed to extenguish any threat from the thieves, and Locian even managed to get one or two of the thieves. some injuries were sustained, but no one was seriously hurt. The jewel was recovered and returned, and the party was handsomely rewarded. Locian used his cut to buy an impressive longsword and shortsword, as well as some sturdy chainmail armor.
Later that night, Locian was approached by the Eladrin, who had earlier revealed his name to be Aramil and was the de facto leader of the party. He told Locian that he had known from the beginning that Locian had exagerated his combat prowess, but that he saw potential and eagerness in the young Eladrin. He agreed to teach the Locian better fighting Techniques and survival skills.
After several years and many, many missions, the group, plus and minus a few members, set out on a personal quest to find a treasure rumored to have once belonged to one of the most famous pirate captains of the last 200 years. the treasure was supposedly buried in a gave that has since been turned into a goblin hideout. The party went in and made quick work of the goblins. we made it to the chamber where the treasure was supposed to be burried. before the party could even break out the shovels, they were ambushed by a mecenary gang they have competed against for longer than Locian had been a part of the group. The mercenaries had them outnumbered four to one. The leader of the mercenaries, a Tiefling named Leucis, ordered his men to attack, and the party fought back with all their might. Aramil Fey Stepped away from a couple of bruisers and appeared beside Leucis. The two fought and moved, dissappearing from the sight of everyone else. After minutes of fighting, the last of the mecenary grunts had fallen. The party had suffered many losses, but a few, including Locian, remained alive. Tired and injured, only Locian, while being cut up and bruised, still appeared to be able to move freely. There was a screaming from deeper in the caves, and Locian moved to investigate.
Locian arrived in time to see Aramil lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Locian ran over to his side and tried to stem the flow of the bleeding, but it was coming out to fast for him to stop.
"Locian, I am proud of what you have become," Aramil wispered weakly. "You remind me of the son I lost long ago."
"And you were a better father to me than even my own," Locian replied, tears streaming down his face.
"You have grown a lot these past four years. I've taught you everthing I can. Now it is up to you to take down Leucis once and for all. Take this and hurry, you musn't let him escape." Aramil raised his hand and presented Locian with his sword.
Without saying a word, Locian took the sword and walked deeper into the caves. There he found a wounded Leucis. Without a tought or care, Locian charged Leucis, swinging both swords wildly. Leucis struggled to parry the blows, but every third or fourth strike would hit. Finally, Locian managed to disarm Leucis, sending his broadsword sliding across the cave floor. Lovian then thrust forward with Aramil's longsword, sinking it deep into the Tiefling's chest.
"This isn't over," Leucis said. "You don't know how far this goes." Leucis then coughed up blood and dropped to his knees.
Locian helped the remaining survivors get back to the feet, and they left the cave.
For the next few weeks, Locian mourned the loss of his friend. He wasn't sure he would ever recover. it was then that Orsik, a Dwarf who had been part of the party since long before Locian joined, tried to help Locian out.
"He wouldn't want you moping around, ya know," he said. "You got to just get over it. I mean, you could go at any minute yourself, so ya might as well live life to the fullest while you can. That's what Aramil believed."
Those words echoed in Locian's head for days. He knew that Orsik was right. One day he woke up and started packing his things. He told the remaining party members that he was leaving to see the world and what it had to offer: the people, the sights, and the treasure. Orsik told him that he would be taking over the group, and that Locian was welcome back at any time.
Locian told them of his fighting experience, though he left out that it was all sparring and lessons he took since childhood, and that he had never been in a real fight in his entire life. they appeared to believe him, as they agreed to bring him along. The next morning, Locian, the party, and three humans the others managed to recruit, headed out. The new recruits were outfitted with crude swords and worn leather armor.
The thieves were tracked down to a small cave. the party managed to extenguish any threat from the thieves, and Locian even managed to get one or two of the thieves. some injuries were sustained, but no one was seriously hurt. The jewel was recovered and returned, and the party was handsomely rewarded. Locian used his cut to buy an impressive longsword and shortsword, as well as some sturdy chainmail armor.
Later that night, Locian was approached by the Eladrin, who had earlier revealed his name to be Aramil and was the de facto leader of the party. He told Locian that he had known from the beginning that Locian had exagerated his combat prowess, but that he saw potential and eagerness in the young Eladrin. He agreed to teach the Locian better fighting Techniques and survival skills.
After several years and many, many missions, the group, plus and minus a few members, set out on a personal quest to find a treasure rumored to have once belonged to one of the most famous pirate captains of the last 200 years. the treasure was supposedly buried in a gave that has since been turned into a goblin hideout. The party went in and made quick work of the goblins. we made it to the chamber where the treasure was supposed to be burried. before the party could even break out the shovels, they were ambushed by a mecenary gang they have competed against for longer than Locian had been a part of the group. The mercenaries had them outnumbered four to one. The leader of the mercenaries, a Tiefling named Leucis, ordered his men to attack, and the party fought back with all their might. Aramil Fey Stepped away from a couple of bruisers and appeared beside Leucis. The two fought and moved, dissappearing from the sight of everyone else. After minutes of fighting, the last of the mecenary grunts had fallen. The party had suffered many losses, but a few, including Locian, remained alive. Tired and injured, only Locian, while being cut up and bruised, still appeared to be able to move freely. There was a screaming from deeper in the caves, and Locian moved to investigate.
Locian arrived in time to see Aramil lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Locian ran over to his side and tried to stem the flow of the bleeding, but it was coming out to fast for him to stop.
"Locian, I am proud of what you have become," Aramil wispered weakly. "You remind me of the son I lost long ago."
"And you were a better father to me than even my own," Locian replied, tears streaming down his face.
"You have grown a lot these past four years. I've taught you everthing I can. Now it is up to you to take down Leucis once and for all. Take this and hurry, you musn't let him escape." Aramil raised his hand and presented Locian with his sword.
Without saying a word, Locian took the sword and walked deeper into the caves. There he found a wounded Leucis. Without a tought or care, Locian charged Leucis, swinging both swords wildly. Leucis struggled to parry the blows, but every third or fourth strike would hit. Finally, Locian managed to disarm Leucis, sending his broadsword sliding across the cave floor. Lovian then thrust forward with Aramil's longsword, sinking it deep into the Tiefling's chest.
"This isn't over," Leucis said. "You don't know how far this goes." Leucis then coughed up blood and dropped to his knees.
Locian helped the remaining survivors get back to the feet, and they left the cave.
For the next few weeks, Locian mourned the loss of his friend. He wasn't sure he would ever recover. it was then that Orsik, a Dwarf who had been part of the party since long before Locian joined, tried to help Locian out.
"He wouldn't want you moping around, ya know," he said. "You got to just get over it. I mean, you could go at any minute yourself, so ya might as well live life to the fullest while you can. That's what Aramil believed."
Those words echoed in Locian's head for days. He knew that Orsik was right. One day he woke up and started packing his things. He told the remaining party members that he was leaving to see the world and what it had to offer: the people, the sights, and the treasure. Orsik told him that he would be taking over the group, and that Locian was welcome back at any time.
Jeez. Our characters sound very similar Rathkor, which is to say, yours sounds like mine after she's seen all the shit that can go wrong with the world.
That's kinda cool actually. Our backstories don't tie together but I could see Locian taking on a big brother sort of role towards Solaria.
That's kinda cool actually. Our backstories don't tie together but I could see Locian taking on a big brother sort of role towards Solaria.
I was born the fourth of four boys and became older brother to three favored sisters. The middle child, I stood to never inherit my father's inn, a hospitable stay for sailors and merchants alike. The eldest two of my brothers, Rast and Orum, took our father's place, married, and prospered. Garret, the third, joined the army, rising to become one of the respected color guard and eventually marrying as well. My sisters all had many suitors, each in due time, and though I may have caught the eye of young women myself, everyone knew I held no prospects. My choices were few and my father, a stern but pious member of the community, could well predict that my rising interest in Fallaya and Kess, among others, would lead to heartache and dishonor. So he forced me to choose: Join the army like my brother or join the Temple of Allytyn. Even I could recognize my life needed direction, or so I like to believe now, in my wickedness towards the other boys my age. I still do not know which of their parents sent my father into such a rage. Was it Fallaya's worried mother or one of the boys I had bloodied behind the fish market? I can hardly see their faces any more. I was an instrument of suffering to many and perhaps that was why I sought peace.
“We do not have much,” brother Wembley told me on my second day at the temple, “so your destruction of a single ewer is costly.” It was one of the weakest scoldings I'd ever been given and for a moment I took pity. These men had no children and would no doubt wither beneath my adolescent temper. I regretted my choice in the temple for weeks, then months. A year passed and I still strained against the yoke, trying to drive my placid masters to thrash me or belittle me. I earned every bit of retribution that I imagined they would give. Yet with each curse and hurled inkpot, they calmly corrected me and put me back to work. I transcribed scores of pages of the Tempori, a minor holy text, tended the potatoes, and pressed the paper. I helped cook, swept the chambers, and spent many evenings in silence wishing Allytyn would herself would call my hour. 'Please,' I prayed to her indifferent ears, 'change my lot.'
The second year was easier and the third brought a semblance of peace. Routine became comfortable and I grew patient. At last brother Wembley took me aside in the most curious of his many asides. “The brothers and I are worried about you,” he said. “You have grown complacent.”
Five years had passed and I had become accustomed to a strict routine. It had not changed from one day to the next for nearly two months. “Allytyn delights in the shifting seasons,” said the brother. “She will look past you if you stand still for too long.”
“My breakfast differs from my supper,” I said, trying to emulate his wisdom. But I knew he was right. I had sat still too long beneath her gaze and she would surely turn away. I was gripped with an uncertain fear.
“Consider the missionaries,” said brother Wembley. He needed to make no other argument beyond that.
(to be continued)
“We do not have much,” brother Wembley told me on my second day at the temple, “so your destruction of a single ewer is costly.” It was one of the weakest scoldings I'd ever been given and for a moment I took pity. These men had no children and would no doubt wither beneath my adolescent temper. I regretted my choice in the temple for weeks, then months. A year passed and I still strained against the yoke, trying to drive my placid masters to thrash me or belittle me. I earned every bit of retribution that I imagined they would give. Yet with each curse and hurled inkpot, they calmly corrected me and put me back to work. I transcribed scores of pages of the Tempori, a minor holy text, tended the potatoes, and pressed the paper. I helped cook, swept the chambers, and spent many evenings in silence wishing Allytyn would herself would call my hour. 'Please,' I prayed to her indifferent ears, 'change my lot.'
The second year was easier and the third brought a semblance of peace. Routine became comfortable and I grew patient. At last brother Wembley took me aside in the most curious of his many asides. “The brothers and I are worried about you,” he said. “You have grown complacent.”
Five years had passed and I had become accustomed to a strict routine. It had not changed from one day to the next for nearly two months. “Allytyn delights in the shifting seasons,” said the brother. “She will look past you if you stand still for too long.”
“My breakfast differs from my supper,” I said, trying to emulate his wisdom. But I knew he was right. I had sat still too long beneath her gaze and she would surely turn away. I was gripped with an uncertain fear.
“Consider the missionaries,” said brother Wembley. He needed to make no other argument beyond that.
(to be continued)
Here's my avenger, Ralts. Let me know what you think, first time I've built one, or a melee class for that matter. This is without the houserules which I'll add in later. Still have to look over the rituals but it seems you guys have most of them covered though the ones I do pick will be incorporated into tattoos.
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ======
Ralts Udell, level 1
Githzerai, Avenger
Avenger's Censure: Censure of Retribution
Background: Holy Killer (+2 to Insight)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
Str 8, Con 13, Dex 14, Int 16, Wis 18, Cha 10.
STARTING ABILITY SCORES
Str 8, Con 13, Dex 14, Int 14, Wis 16, Cha 10.
AC: 16 Fort: 12 Reflex: 14 Will: 15
HP: 27 Surges: 8 Surge Value: 6
TRAINED SKILLS
Religion +8, Intimidate +5, Acrobatics +9, Perception +9
UNTRAINED SKILLS
Arcana +3, Bluff, Diplomacy, Dungeoneering +4, Endurance +1, Heal +4, History +3, Insight +6, Nature +4, Stealth +2, Streetwise, Thievery +2, Athletics +1
FEATS
Level 1: Githzerai Blade Master
POWERS
Avenger at-will 1: Overwhelming Strike
Avenger at-will 1: Leading Strike
Avenger encounter 1: Avenging Echo
Avenger daily 1: Temple of Light
ITEMS
Cloth Armor (Basic Clothing), Adventurer's Kit, Holy Symbol, Fullblade of Oaths Fulfilled +1
====== Copy to Clipboard and Press the Import Button on the Summary Tab ======
Lawgiver should be his diety as well. Story to come later.
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ======
Ralts Udell, level 1
Githzerai, Avenger
Avenger's Censure: Censure of Retribution
Background: Holy Killer (+2 to Insight)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
Str 8, Con 13, Dex 14, Int 16, Wis 18, Cha 10.
STARTING ABILITY SCORES
Str 8, Con 13, Dex 14, Int 14, Wis 16, Cha 10.
AC: 16 Fort: 12 Reflex: 14 Will: 15
HP: 27 Surges: 8 Surge Value: 6
TRAINED SKILLS
Religion +8, Intimidate +5, Acrobatics +9, Perception +9
UNTRAINED SKILLS
Arcana +3, Bluff, Diplomacy, Dungeoneering +4, Endurance +1, Heal +4, History +3, Insight +6, Nature +4, Stealth +2, Streetwise, Thievery +2, Athletics +1
FEATS
Level 1: Githzerai Blade Master
POWERS
Avenger at-will 1: Overwhelming Strike
Avenger at-will 1: Leading Strike
Avenger encounter 1: Avenging Echo
Avenger daily 1: Temple of Light
ITEMS
Cloth Armor (Basic Clothing), Adventurer's Kit, Holy Symbol, Fullblade of Oaths Fulfilled +1
====== Copy to Clipboard and Press the Import Button on the Summary Tab ======
Lawgiver should be his diety as well. Story to come later.
The missionaries train in a secluded monastery and, for the first time in my life, I left Kabi to join my brothers in the hills several leagues away from the city and the sea. At first the change brought sleeplessness and doubt but I began to reconcile my choice and my faith. Far removed from the center of my faith, my family, and my home, I sought to train with the famous missionaries of Allytyn. I learned to care for the sick and to defend myself against highwaymen. I learned to convey the tenets of my faith and to understand the depths of my belief. Time eroded and it also thrust the mountains towards the heavens. I would be a force for change and mote of dust in its current. I would shape the beliefs and the fortunes of savage men and float along the winds of Allytyn's breath.
“Know when to push,” brother Wembley always said, “and know when to bend.”
I learned to minister but there was no subtlety to my ministry. I spoke with conviction but not persuasion, Wembley said. My talents lay in my physical training. I feared the world, as did all the missionaries. We trained to leave for dangerous lands and carry with us dangerous ideas that would challenge the word of powerful leaders. We prepared for our final hour, as only Allytyn saw it.
Brother Wembley's final hour came. We had sailed to Vosie and were ministering to small villages along the coast to Uradzaj. We traveled together after two years of my training at the monastery. Wembley had not ministered in many years but I knew he felt I was not ready to set forth on my own and it was not unusual for a new missionary to accompany a veteran. Allytyn saw otherwise.
We were following the ruts of merchant wagons that frequented the villages of Muki. The sky was overcast and our robes were stained with the reddish clay that dominated the soil there. The road wound along a windblown bluff and the wind and curves of the road disguised the runaway carriage. Two horses stampeded around the bend, the wheels locked into the ruts of the road. We both reacted, me jumping off the road and him shoving at the air where I was. Wembley's instinct to save me killed him, the resentment for which I pray each day to no longer feel. Couldn't he have trusted me to my training? He lay dying, his body broken by hooves and wagon wheels, and he gasped unintelligibly. “Know...bend...the praise...of her...” he said, then drew me closer. “Push.”
I wept alone on the bluff at the loss of my friend. I felt no injustice or anger. I merely missed brother Wembley. Change had come too suddenly, dear Allytyn.
(to be concluded tomorrow)
“Know when to push,” brother Wembley always said, “and know when to bend.”
I learned to minister but there was no subtlety to my ministry. I spoke with conviction but not persuasion, Wembley said. My talents lay in my physical training. I feared the world, as did all the missionaries. We trained to leave for dangerous lands and carry with us dangerous ideas that would challenge the word of powerful leaders. We prepared for our final hour, as only Allytyn saw it.
Brother Wembley's final hour came. We had sailed to Vosie and were ministering to small villages along the coast to Uradzaj. We traveled together after two years of my training at the monastery. Wembley had not ministered in many years but I knew he felt I was not ready to set forth on my own and it was not unusual for a new missionary to accompany a veteran. Allytyn saw otherwise.
We were following the ruts of merchant wagons that frequented the villages of Muki. The sky was overcast and our robes were stained with the reddish clay that dominated the soil there. The road wound along a windblown bluff and the wind and curves of the road disguised the runaway carriage. Two horses stampeded around the bend, the wheels locked into the ruts of the road. We both reacted, me jumping off the road and him shoving at the air where I was. Wembley's instinct to save me killed him, the resentment for which I pray each day to no longer feel. Couldn't he have trusted me to my training? He lay dying, his body broken by hooves and wagon wheels, and he gasped unintelligibly. “Know...bend...the praise...of her...” he said, then drew me closer. “Push.”
I wept alone on the bluff at the loss of my friend. I felt no injustice or anger. I merely missed brother Wembley. Change had come too suddenly, dear Allytyn.
(to be concluded tomorrow)
Inara is the youngest of three children of a minor noble house. From an early age she was brought up in noble traditions. While the attention of the family was far more interested in the two elder boys and the disappointed that her mother bore a girl than another boy she grew up largely ignored by the family. Despite this sad state of affairs the young woman not only showed some magical ability at a very young age but also an incredible thirst for knowledge spending her days learning and reading spending her evenings poring over the extensive volumes in the manor's library. Many such tomes were written in the Elven script and Inara eventually became fluent in that language.
Upon reaching adulthood and with no chance of inheriting the family's landholdings (and frankly, she held no inclination to take on that responsibility) she did what many who held such thirst of knowledge and because a student in a respected magic school.
Though Inara excelled as a student she found the strict discipline and consistent attempts to slow her progress stifling and with true noble demeaner... quite unbearable. When her apprenticship ended, at age 25, Inara took her leave of the school. She was glad to have put this part of her behind her and she ambitious carved out some plans to talents to good use and to strengthen her knowledge, no matter the cost.
With her wealth she procurred the necessary tomes to read in her private study and honed her skill, whispered her devotion in the temple to provide her with the necessary boon to unlock a great power, endlessly sought knowledge. She knew however one day, she had to go elsewhere.
After two years of this lifestyle, Inara slowly began to feel a profound loneliness and ennui overtook her. Long has she heard of another library that she could visit across the sees and thus seeked to procure passage on the next passenger boat. As the boat journies across the sea, Inara remains in her room, studing and constantly writing in her spellbook every once in awhile making sure to enchant her book that no one but her can read up on her progress.
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While Inara doesn't like to get involved in fights, she does enjoy finishing off her enemies in the most dreadful way she can come up with because after all, what better fate do they deserve? She would rather speak when it is absolutely necessary and when she does, she makes sure she doesn't speak for nothing, wasting words is not something she cannot abide. Inara is assertive and driven yet can reveal a sly side that rivals the best of rogues silvery tongues in the kingdom. She is very sangfroid and analytical when it comes to situations where she has to estimate an enemy or situation.
Average height and average weight with an average frame with the little care taken to her looks, her beauty is undiscovered by others who view the ordinary looking magus who is more often looking down to her spellbook than in the eyes of others. Unless of course, something is needed from them, then Inara comes with a way to use her silvery tongue to get what she wants.
Inara DiMiele - Neutral Evil
Rituals
- Tenser's Floating Disk
- Create Campsite
- Secret Page
- Unseen Servant
- Explorer's Fire
Upon reaching adulthood and with no chance of inheriting the family's landholdings (and frankly, she held no inclination to take on that responsibility) she did what many who held such thirst of knowledge and because a student in a respected magic school.
Though Inara excelled as a student she found the strict discipline and consistent attempts to slow her progress stifling and with true noble demeaner... quite unbearable. When her apprenticship ended, at age 25, Inara took her leave of the school. She was glad to have put this part of her behind her and she ambitious carved out some plans to talents to good use and to strengthen her knowledge, no matter the cost.
With her wealth she procurred the necessary tomes to read in her private study and honed her skill, whispered her devotion in the temple to provide her with the necessary boon to unlock a great power, endlessly sought knowledge. She knew however one day, she had to go elsewhere.
After two years of this lifestyle, Inara slowly began to feel a profound loneliness and ennui overtook her. Long has she heard of another library that she could visit across the sees and thus seeked to procure passage on the next passenger boat. As the boat journies across the sea, Inara remains in her room, studing and constantly writing in her spellbook every once in awhile making sure to enchant her book that no one but her can read up on her progress.
-----------
While Inara doesn't like to get involved in fights, she does enjoy finishing off her enemies in the most dreadful way she can come up with because after all, what better fate do they deserve? She would rather speak when it is absolutely necessary and when she does, she makes sure she doesn't speak for nothing, wasting words is not something she cannot abide. Inara is assertive and driven yet can reveal a sly side that rivals the best of rogues silvery tongues in the kingdom. She is very sangfroid and analytical when it comes to situations where she has to estimate an enemy or situation.
Average height and average weight with an average frame with the little care taken to her looks, her beauty is undiscovered by others who view the ordinary looking magus who is more often looking down to her spellbook than in the eyes of others. Unless of course, something is needed from them, then Inara comes with a way to use her silvery tongue to get what she wants.
Inara DiMiele - Neutral Evil
Rituals
- Tenser's Floating Disk
- Create Campsite
- Secret Page
- Unseen Servant
- Explorer's Fire
R
rathkor
I'm really sorry, but I wanted to change up a couple small things. Mostly around the skills. I promise this will be the last change I make. also, I want to look for a better pic, maybe a real eladrin as apposed to an elf. I'll post that if i can find it.
R
rathkor
So yeah, finding a picture of an Eladrin in chainmail armor weilding 2 swords seems to be impossible, so i was reduced to using a very cheap character creator to create my own. yeah, its kinda bad, but its better than the other one, in that it looks like an Eladrin instead of an Elf.
Everything looks great so far, just a quick note for Far.
When using gametable macros, please use 2d20h1+8 this will give a result of (2,15) = 23 as your result. That will streamline the advantage Avengers have with their Oath of Enmity. Whenever you are denied your oath or it is not applicable you can use the same macro and we will take the 1st number of d20, in the example above that would be a 2.
By using the 2d20h1 you save a lot extra space in the rolling screen.
When using gametable macros, please use 2d20h1+8 this will give a result of (2,15) = 23 as your result. That will streamline the advantage Avengers have with their Oath of Enmity. Whenever you are denied your oath or it is not applicable you can use the same macro and we will take the 1st number of d20, in the example above that would be a 2.
By using the 2d20h1 you save a lot extra space in the rolling screen.
Aw, thanks. I studied short story writing for a while before grad school. It's nice to give it a try once in a while. I was worried the life of a monk would be too boring to write about!
Brother Wembley is buried high atop the bluff not far from the rutted road to Uradjaz. I planted a single triangular stone in the middle of a circle at the head of his grave such that it pointed up towards Allytyn and sloped in the direction of his final hour. On a sunny day in the late spring of each year, the shadow of the stone's pointed tip would commemorate brother Wembley's death by falling squarely on its pointed base. It was a crude memorial but one fitting with our traditions.
I walked, drawing myself inward to weather the painful passage of time. Allytyn had never been so uncaring as that long, solitary march. We in the brotherhood of Allytyn embrace her indifference. It gives us comfort and strength to recognize the limits of our existence and the potential of our actions. Allytyn is not moved by our worship but it is not for her that we pray. It is for ourselves. I prayed long past the villages we were set to minister and long through the cold, blustery nights.
On the third day after Wembley's final hour, I found my release. A hawk, native to the bluffs and shore here, rose high into the sky and circled me as I walked. At first I did not notice it, except in passing, but it soared silently in great, regular arcs for many miles. My companion, as that was how I thought of the hawk by the late afternoon, seemed almost playful at times and my heart lifted. I remembered that Wembley's passing was but a single grain of sand in Allytyn's hourglass. I had recited the passages in trying to remember this fact but it did not truly resonate until the playful hawk had joined my travel. Then clarity returned and my grief subsided to a dull ache. When I stopped for a sparse meal of salted pork and hard bread, the hawk screeched once and flew back the way we had come. I watched her (for I somehow knew it was a female) until she was only a speck on the horizon.
When I arrived in Uradjaz, I made my way directly to the temple. I had never before been to this city or this temple but it was immediately familiar. The brothers, some of whom had known Wembley, offered prayers and consolation. One brother Jak sent a message to Kabi and also offered to accompany me on my next ministry. I declined. “I am ready,” I said, “though Allytyn delights in the changing seasons. Send me far from Muki, brother, and I will spread our gospel to all who will listen.”
He led me to the scribes, who had bound two fine books, transcribed by seventeen monks over the course of three years. “Carry our words,” brother Jak said. “In Cotone the temple has been rebuilt after many years of disrepair. One tome is for their first service and the other for the benefactor of the temple's reconstruction. Visit Achard Pall with our gift and this letter of gratitude. The temple father in Cotone will direct you from there.”
I bowed and took the weighty books. These were precious to the faithful but worth little to anyone else. “Thank you, brother Jak. May your wings and the wind both carry you.”
“A pleasing farewell, brother Bastian.”
Now I stand on the rising and falling seas. I contemplate the many years since my reckless youth and find satisfaction in my own change. Allytyn might also be pleased. As the boat pushes through choppy waters, I rock back and forth in rhythm with the slanting deck. A tern circles high above us and I feel, for this moment, a sense of peace.
I walked, drawing myself inward to weather the painful passage of time. Allytyn had never been so uncaring as that long, solitary march. We in the brotherhood of Allytyn embrace her indifference. It gives us comfort and strength to recognize the limits of our existence and the potential of our actions. Allytyn is not moved by our worship but it is not for her that we pray. It is for ourselves. I prayed long past the villages we were set to minister and long through the cold, blustery nights.
On the third day after Wembley's final hour, I found my release. A hawk, native to the bluffs and shore here, rose high into the sky and circled me as I walked. At first I did not notice it, except in passing, but it soared silently in great, regular arcs for many miles. My companion, as that was how I thought of the hawk by the late afternoon, seemed almost playful at times and my heart lifted. I remembered that Wembley's passing was but a single grain of sand in Allytyn's hourglass. I had recited the passages in trying to remember this fact but it did not truly resonate until the playful hawk had joined my travel. Then clarity returned and my grief subsided to a dull ache. When I stopped for a sparse meal of salted pork and hard bread, the hawk screeched once and flew back the way we had come. I watched her (for I somehow knew it was a female) until she was only a speck on the horizon.
When I arrived in Uradjaz, I made my way directly to the temple. I had never before been to this city or this temple but it was immediately familiar. The brothers, some of whom had known Wembley, offered prayers and consolation. One brother Jak sent a message to Kabi and also offered to accompany me on my next ministry. I declined. “I am ready,” I said, “though Allytyn delights in the changing seasons. Send me far from Muki, brother, and I will spread our gospel to all who will listen.”
He led me to the scribes, who had bound two fine books, transcribed by seventeen monks over the course of three years. “Carry our words,” brother Jak said. “In Cotone the temple has been rebuilt after many years of disrepair. One tome is for their first service and the other for the benefactor of the temple's reconstruction. Visit Achard Pall with our gift and this letter of gratitude. The temple father in Cotone will direct you from there.”
I bowed and took the weighty books. These were precious to the faithful but worth little to anyone else. “Thank you, brother Jak. May your wings and the wind both carry you.”
“A pleasing farewell, brother Bastian.”
Now I stand on the rising and falling seas. I contemplate the many years since my reckless youth and find satisfaction in my own change. Allytyn might also be pleased. As the boat pushes through choppy waters, I rock back and forth in rhythm with the slanting deck. A tern circles high above us and I feel, for this moment, a sense of peace.
I'm actually quite please you made those changes and so will the rest of the party I think.
Here are your PC's in the old style character generator, Jay we still have to go over some changes from Essentials back to 4E. Please note that I selected pictures to help differentiate the files in the character builder not based upon what you have described thus far. If you find an image that you want to use I will gladly incorporate it.
I'd like to purchase a quarterstaff (I've always loved quarterstaves for some reason) but otherwise mine looks just right. I indicated in my opening that Im carrying two heavy tomes. Is that something that needs to be indicated at least for encumbrance?
Added at: 10:25
I'd like to purchase a quarterstaff (I've always loved quarterstaves for some reason) but otherwise mine looks just right. I indicated in my opening that Im carrying two heavy tomes. Is that something that needs to be indicated at least for encumbrance?
Added at: 10:25
I'd like to purchase a quarterstaff (I've always loved quarterstaves for some reason) but otherwise mine looks just right. I indicated in my opening that Im carrying two heavy tomes. Is that something that needs to be indicated at least for encumbrance?
Google images does not give much for monk artwork! Let's try this one on for size, though.
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